While I am traveling around the world, I do realize I miss a lot of things in Europe, which I have deliberately left out of this trip.

3 August 2014 though is a day that I regret not spending on my home continent.

It’s the centenary of the German declaration of war on France, hours before the troops marched into neutral Belgium, the country that was my home for 12 years, and hence nearly a third of my life.

It’s the days when, as we say, the lights went out in Europe.

And a hundred years later, you can say that Europe has never recovered from was about to follow in the four years directly after, and the thirty years till 1945, when the once proud continent, ruling the world, was reduced to a pile of smoldering ruins.

I’m not about to start a lesson in history – even if it was my minor in university – but it is one of these focal points in history, that change everything, and nothing in the 20th century can be understood without the events around these days.

All throughout the year, hundreds of commemorative events take place all over Europe, and all around the world.

It is on this trip that I have understood the global nature of WWI, which was less evident to me as the fighting took place more or less in Europe only (minus some battles in the colonies).

But traveling through Australia and New Zealand in the start of this year showed me how deeply engrained the Great War is even on the other side of the world.

Even the smallest villages in Australia and New Zealand commemorate the names of their fallen sons, somewhere in Europe, mostly in Gallipoli.

ANZAC Day, still highly celebrated, remembers Australia’s and New Zealand’s contribution to the cause, and played a vital role in shaping these countries identities, beyond being simple British colonies or dominions, but being distinctively Australian, or Kiwi.

And still, most of the commemorations will be held in Europe, in Belgium and northern France, who suffered the most from the slaughtering.

I remember my first weeks in Belgium, just being a new student at the College of Europe in Bruges, when we went to Ypres, a town that was reduced to ruins.

I remember the military fanfare played every night at the end of day, to commemorate the losses.

We had a tour over the military cemeteries, the endless white crosses, and also a small German cemetery, with moving figurines by German artist Käthe Kollwitz, who lost her son in those fields.

They showed us the fields where the first gas was released, the trenches and the bomb craters that left the landscape pockmarked.

I first realized then how much more present the first war is in Belgium, France, or the UK.

In Germany, WWI is not forgotten, but so overshadowed by the Second, that we tend to forget the losses it brought, especially on France and Belgium, but also on Germany.

However, back home, what was about to come in 1939-45 would thwart the experiences of 1914-18 totally.Not so in our neighboring countries.

I recently read The Sleepwalkers, by Christopher Clarck, an excellent recount of the events from the assassination in Sarajevo to the declaration of war.

Another great book is Paris 1919. Six Months that changed the world, by Margaret MacMillan, that will tell you how the war ended, and how they negotiated and impossible peace, planting some germs of future wars to come.

Today, I have a feeling I want to be back in Europe.

You might think these commemorations stupid and futile.

The parades, the meetings, declarations, the flower wreaths, the hand holding politicians.

Still I find it valuable to stop for a minute, and think about the horrors, and the gift we had to live in peace for such a long time.

Think of the Middle East then. Think of Afghanistan. Think of Africa. Let’s hope we’ve learned our lesson well.